Unethical Recruitment Practices
by Matt Perrett
Summary: Ramza has no qualms about getting what he wants. Sometimes you just need a magic gun, amirite?


Alphonse the chemist admired his new gun for the sixteenth time that day. It was as cold as the snowy terrain of Gollund, but he didn't care. He couldn't believe his luck when he found it. A gun that shot bullets of magical ice! And the gun created the bullets itself! He didn't normally have much use for magic – a potion was just as good as a cure spell, and faster to boot – but this kind of magic he could get behind.

With his prospects for gainful employment drying up due to the war and his money running out, he had reluctantly signed on with a pair of shady-looking brothers and their "tame" behemoths to clear the monsters out of the Gollund coal mines. It had been hard going at first, but the behemoths were formidable combatants with a bit of healing, and his fighting skill and confidence had increased by leaps and bounds. Of course, his magnificent discovery had helped enormously, making the last few encounters as easy as pie.

Suddenly, one of the brothers – Alphonse could never quite tell them apart – rushed up to where the chemist was sitting. "There's an armed band heading our way," the man hissed, "and they're lead by that heretic who's on all the wanted posters! We're gonna lay an ambush for them before they get into the mines!"

"What? Why?" Alphonse asked, panicking a little. He'd signed on for monster hunting, not fighting armed and dangerous men.

The bounty hunter glared at him. "Were you born stupid, or did you grow into it?! They're competition for our job, and a heretic's head would put us on easy street for the rest of our lives! Just hide somewhere and don't mess this up for us!"

With that, the man took off running. Alphonse surged to his feet and frantically looked for a good position. Spotting a nearby mine entrance, he ducked inside. The passage was closed and only went back a few feet, but it was deep enough to shroud him in shadows and hopefully keep him out of sight. His heart raced as he listened for any sign of the heretic's approach. How had life led him to this point? He wasn't ready for this. He was just a guy with some healing items and a gun. Feeling the anxiety beginning to overwhelm him, he pulled a small vial out of his pack and quickly swallowed the contents. A warm, calming wave swept over him almost immediately, and he sighed with relief. A guy with a _magic_ gun, he mentally corrected himself. He could do this.

Peeking out of the tunnel entrance, the chemist let out an audible squeak. The heretic's band – six men and women – was arrayed before them at the bottom of the hill, armed and armored to the teeth and not looking surprised in the slightest. In fact, the heretic – a young, fair-haired man in cyan armor – was looking straight at him with undisguised interest. The man next to him, a slim, gun-wielding youth, was pointing in his direction and talking excitedly, though Alphonse couldn't hear what he was saying over the howling wind. The chemist ducked back out of sight, breathing heavily and clutching his gun to his chest. He could feel his medicated calm evaporating. Why would they be talking about him?

Mustering his courage, Alphonse looked out again, his weapon at the ready. Two members of the group had split off to deal with the bounty hunter and behemoth lying in wait at the base of the hill, while two more were making their way up the hill to deal with the behemoth of the other side. The heretic was heading straight for the chemist's hiding place at a light jog, a cheerful grin plastered on his face.

"Hello there!" the heretic called, waving jauntily. "My name's Ramza Beoulve! Perhaps you've heard of me!"

Alphonse instinctively squeezed the trigger. The shot missed the blond warrior's cheek by a finger width. In the distance, a large pillar of ice erupted from the ground.

The grin slipped from the heretic's face. "Oh. I see that you have." A moment later it was back full force. The warrior paused long enough to equip a medium-sized dark blue and black shield, then resumed his approach, if a little slower this time.

"Not one step closer, heretic!" the chemist shouted. He aimed his gun at the man's head and desperately tried to stop his hands from shaking.

The youth halted and held up his hands. "Relax, friend, I just want to talk! I'm unarmed, as you can see. I have an eye for talent, and it's clear as day that you have the potential for greatness. I think you have a lot to offer my little group, and my companions agree." He took a cautious step forward.

Without thinking, Alphonse squeezed off another shot, this time connecting with the man's head. Half of the blond's face was covered with blossoming ice crystals.

Looking unperturbed and none the worse for wear, Ramza brushed the ice from his face with his shield and kept talking. "See what I mean?" he said with a charismatic grin. "You're a crack shot with that thing! It's a beautiful instrument of destruction, too."

"Thanks," the chemist replied nervously. "I found it."

"Well, you handle it like you've held a gun your whole life!" The warrior advanced another step, and this time Alphonse didn't shoot at him. "Look, I can tell from the company you're keeping that you've been dealt a bad hand lately. Hunting monsters in a frozen wasteland and ambushing travelers isn't what you wanted to be doing with your life, is it?" Alphonse shook his head, and Ramza continued, encouraged. "Come with us, and together we can do great things!"

The chemist's gun lowered an inch. "How?" he asked in disbelief. "You're all heretics! If I go with you, I'll be a heretic too!"

"It's not an easy life," Ramza acknowledged, his expression turning serious, "but all of my companions follow me because they know it's for the greater good. They fight, as I do, to stop darkness from covering all of Ivalice. It's a darkness the Church refuses to see, and that's why they call me a heretic, but that doesn't stop me from fighting." He smiled again, a simpler but no less charming smile. "I'm not asking you to make a decision now. Just hear me out, alright? You won't be a heretic if you share our campfire for a night." He held out his hand.

Alphonse licked his chapped lips anxiously, his eyes darting over the battlefield. One of the behemoths was dead, and the other had been petrified. He didn't see the brothers, but he only heard one of them further up the hill, and it didn't sound like the fight was going to last much longer. If he said no, would Ramza and his band kill him and leave his corpse for the monsters? His blood seemed to turn to ice at the thought. Still, the young man had been nothing but friendly and forthcoming, and hadn't done anything to suggest otherwise. Could it hurt to just listen...?

Slowly, Alphonse lowered his weapon and took Ramza's hand. "Alright, I'll hear what you have to say."

Ramza's grin returned, and he shook the chemist's hand vigorously. "Excellent!" he exclaimed, looking supremely pleased with himself. "You won't regret it!" He tilted his head to the side slightly. "By the way, I never did get your name."

The chemist smiled back. "It's Alphonse."

"Great to have you aboard, Alphonse!" the blond noble said as he threw an arm around the chemist's shoulders and led him down the hill. "Can I call you Al? Let's get back to camp and get some hot food in you while my friends finish up here. Have I got a story to tell you!"

* * *

Alphonse's head was reeling when Ramza finally finished, long after the sun had gone down. He wouldn't have believed a word of it if the youth's companions hadn't confirmed every detail. They had even shown him the Zodiac stones and let him hold one. He couldn't understand how Ramza could handle them so calmly; a mere touch had made the chemist's skin crawl. He had started drinking halfway through the explanation, and several members of the small band had joined him.

His whole worldview was irrevocably shattered. How could he return to the life he once led, knowing that demons walked the earth and that high-ranking members of the Church were party to the plot. Alphonse felt extremely lucky that he had never been a man of faith – he had gone to church and mouthed the expected phrases often enough to avoid suspicion – but he felt sick at the thought of the tithes of his friends and family going to such evil ends. Even the Church's perpetuation of the War of the Lions for their own gain paled in comparison. He had been ready to join Ramza's crusade that very night, but the nobleman had insisted that he sleep on his decision. The next morning found him in Ramza's tent, hungover and exhausted but no less eager to join the cause.

Ramza beamed at the chemist and slid a small stack of papers and an inkwell across the small folding table they sat at. "Just a small formality," he said lightly. "A little contract that establishes our duties and responsibilities to each other and lays out our many benefits, such as profit-sharing and life insurance."

Alphonse skimmed the document, but he was really only interested in finding where he had to sign. He would put his life in this man's hands.

Ramza took the signed contract back and quickly inspected the signature, then grinned and shook the chemist's hand animatedly. "Welcome to the good fight, Al!"

Alphonse smiled shyly. "Thank you, sir."

"Now then," the blond youth continued, "we just have a few things to go over before I let you go. As the leader of this group, it's my responsibility to ensure the survival and well-being of all its members. This frequently requires difficult decisions on my part, and necessitates a...flexible approach to team rosters and equipment." Seeing Alphonse's confused look, he explained further. "Let me put it this way. You've had a rough couple days; do you feel confident in your ability to participate in our next battle?"

The chemist shook his head. "I don't think I could win a fight with my grandmother right now."

"My point exactly!" Ramza exclaimed. "In these perilous times, it's vital for me to field the best people at the time and let the less-fit members rest and recover their strength." He paused for a moment. "Unfortunately, we have a limited equipment pool, and limited funds to obtain better weapons and armor. This means that we have to share equipment in order to ensure that our teammates going into battle have the best gear possible. I mean, it would hardly be fair if someone had to go into a fight underequipped, all because someone else got sick or injured and refused to let you borrow their legendary sword." There was an undercurrent of bitterness in Ramza's voice.

Alphonse shifted in his seat. "That doesn't sound quite right, I guess," he replied uneasily.

The nobleman nodded happily. "Anyway, we've already established that it's best for you to take it easy for a while. Fortunately, one of our comrades is also a skilled gunslinger and can make excellent use of your gun in the next fight. I'd hate to see it go waste, after all." He held out his hand expectantly, palm up.

After a long moment of hesitation, Alphonse finally pulled out his treasured gun and reluctantly handed it to his leader. "I'll get it back, right?"

"Of course!" Ramza answered cheerily as he pocketed the firearm. "The next time you're on the battle roster, I promise. Don't worry, Mustadio'll take care of it like it was his own." Noting the chemist's mournful expression, his tone softened slightly. "It's best not to get attached to things around here. Attachment is the root of all suffering. Or so I've heard."

Alphonse nodded miserably. He had a sinking feeling that it was going to be a long time before he would get to hold it again.

"Alright, we're almost done here. I just need to get a feel for your skills and potential job growth. What would you say to being trained as a knight?"

The chemist perked up. Ramza thought he could be a knight? With a sword and armor and everything? "I could give it a try," he said with a small smile.

Ramza scrutinized him for a minute, then gestured for him to stand. "Well, you won't be able to wear that stuff as a knight, and I have better gear set aside for knights anyway. Take it off and put it all on the table: hat, shirt and shoes."

Alphonse hesitated again, but his excitement got the better of him and he did what he was told. He was going to be a knight!

Ramza got up and walked over to a corner of the tent. He rummaged around in a pile of supplies and pulled out a sword. "Here, try this on for size," he said, handing it to the chemist.

Taking it eagerly, Alphonse gasped in shock at the weight of the blade. He could barely lift it! How could anyone swing one of these around all day? "It's...a little heavy," he said through clenched teeth.

"Ooh, and that was our lightest sword, too." The youth took the weapon back and casually tossed it on the pile. "Okay, maybe being a knight isn't the best fit for you. How do you feel about magic?"

The chemist shrugged. "Never cared much for it, honestly."

"Yeah, you don't strike me as a man of faith." Ramza tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Which reminds me, what items do you have experience with? Do you know the correct dosage for a Hi-Ether?"

"A what?" Alphonse asked blankly.

"Never mind then. How about for an X-Potion? No? What about Remedies?" When the chemist shook his head, Ramza laughed. "Well, at least you can use Phoenix Downs, right?"

Alphonse colored in embarrassment. "Err, actually, my teacher never got around to those. They're awfully expensive, and someone has to be unconscious or dead to..." He trailed off at the warrior's disappointed look. "She did teach me about Elixirs," he added hopefully.

"Yeah, not much call for those, seeing as how they're as rare as hen's teeth." Ramza leaned back on the table and crossed his arms. He looked down at the ground for a minute, then sighed and looked the chemist in the eye. "I really hate to say this, Al, but I'm not sure there's a place for you on our team."

"What?" Alphonse could hardly believe what he was hearing. "But why?"

"Frankly, between your skills, combat experience and physical conditioning, you're just not up to snuff," replied Ramza matter-of-factly. "There's nothing wrong with you, per se, but it would take an enormous amount of babysitting just to get you up to the level of our lower-tier fighters. Given that we fight Church knights and demons on a disturbingly regular basis, I simply can't afford to field anything less than our very best. It would be unconscionable to expose the others to that sort of risk."

The chemist just hung his head. "I understand," he said, feeling all hope drain out of him. "I'll just collect my things and—"

"Actually, according to Section 8 of the contract you just signed, you agreed to turn all your property over to the band's communal pool." The nobleman whipped out the contract and flipped to the appropriate page.

Alphonse's eyes darted back and forward between the paper and his clothes on the table behind Ramza. "B-but you said you had equipment for me!"

"That was if I found a good job for you and you performed that job in combat. Clearly, neither one of those things is going to happen."

"What about the profit-sharing you mentioned? I was in a battle!" Alphonse was grasping at straws, but he was desperate.

Ramza grimaced. "I hate to be the one to point it out to you, but you were on the wrong side of that last battle."

"But—"

The warrior spun around, his shoulders hunching as he gripped the edge of the table. "I'm sorry, Al," his voice full of emotion. "Really, I am, but it's best for everyone. This is harder for me than it is for you!" His shoulders shook slightly, and he wiped his hands with the back of his hand. "Please, just...just go before I lose my composure!"

The chemist slumped, and he turned and walked out of the tent in despair. He did his best to stay strong, but when a pretty woman in a white mage's dress put an arm around his bare shoulders and whispered that it would all be okay, he started sobbing uncontrollably.

* * *

Agrias entered Ramza's tent to find him all smiles and sunshine, whistling merrily as he catalogued and packed his latest acquisitions. "You know," she noted with some irritation, "things like this are why half of Ivalice is howling for your head."

"Who cares!" the noble replied gleefully. "I got a sweet gun out of it!" Rising, he turned to face Agrias. "Say, Beowulf didn't hear any of that, did he?"

The blonde swordswoman shook her head. "He's still sleeping off all the alcohol he drank last night. He took your story better than most, but not by much."

"Good, 'cause I really want that guy on my team. Have you seen what he can do with a blade? He's _amazing_!"

"He has a unique combination of magic and swordplay," she agreed. "Seems to be searching for his lost love or something, judging from his mutterings while I was putting him to bed."

Ramza screwed up his face in displeasure. "I guess she can come with us if he finds her," he said, clearly not liking the possibility. He walked over to the tent entrance and looked out, watching as the white mage led Alphonse away. Agrias came and watched with him, both silent for a few moments. "What do you think about Marsilia, Agrias?" he asked thoughtfully.

The knight whirled on him. "You had better not be suggesting what I think you're suggesting!" she whispered in horrified outrage. "She's been with you since the Academy!"

"Yeah, but she's been warming the bench for six months now. She _has_ been useful for errands, but..." Ramza shrugged, unconcerned. "Well, nothing I have to decide right this minute."

Mustadio passed in front of the tent, and Ramza hurried out to catch him. "Hey Mustadio, wait up!" The young engineer turned around, and before he could say anything Ramza pressed the magic gun into his hands. "Here's that gun you wanted – I bet it'll be real _cool_ in our next fight!" He winked several times and nudged Mustadio's ribs with his elbow. "Don't shoot your eye out, kid!" With that he walked off, chortling at his own jokes.

Mustadio looked up at Agrias as she approached. "I don't feel entirely comfortable with this, Agrias," he said dejectedly.

Agrias just shook her head. "Who does anymore, Mustadio, who does."

The engineer glanced down at the ground, his expression morose. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have said anything."

Agrias put her hands on Mustadio's shoulders. "Don't do that to yourself," she said gently but firmly. "He's alive because of you, and not face-down in the snow like those two thieves he was with."

Mustadio sighed deeply. "Yeah, sure. All he has to do is survive in a war-torn land swarming with monsters without any equipment, all while trying to forget the truth that Ivalice is controlled by corrupt nobles and even more corrupt Church officials, some of whom are servants of darkness."

Before Agrias could reply, Ramza rushed up to them. "I almost forgot something," he said quickly. "This swanky hat!" He slapped the chemist's blue hat on Mustadio's head, then adjusted its angle slightly. "Looking good there, ladykiller! Hey Marsilia, don't forget to direct whatshisname to Delita's group!" he called to the white mage as he dashed off again. A fresh round of sobbing could be heard in the distance.

Mustadio looked at Agrias, his eyes threatening to overflow. Wordlessly, they embraced, seeking mutual comfort and reassurance. Ramza might be the only one who could accomplish this impossible task and save the world, Agrias thought, but one day there will be a reckoning. She prayed with all her heart that she would be its executor.

* * *

"Of all the damn luck," Ramza growled. "Our first fight away from the mines, and a thief just _had_ to steal that magic gun from Mustadio! After all the trouble I went through to get it!" He paced angrily inside his tent. "And of course, he just _had_ to fall on it when he died and damage it beyond repair!" He stopped pacing for a few seconds, then shrugged. "Oh well, I'll get my hands on another one sooner or later. It's not really that big a deal."

It was all Agrias could do to not strangle Ramza right then and there.


End file.
